


Slow Fuse

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Explicit Consent, F/M, PWP, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: Jester and Nott meddled, or Caleb finally decided to let himself have something nice. Either way, he's in a room with a nice lady who is going to make his brain stop whirring for five minutes.





	Slow Fuse

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to damoselmaledisant for beta-reading and to sparxwrites for inspiration.

“Why don’t you take off your coat?”

It is, Caleb knows, a suggestion. A kind one, delivered in a warm, slightly smoky voice. His mouth quirks and his hands flutter. Smoky and warm certainly suit the woman in front of him. She is pale, black-eyed, her hair tied up in a loose knot. It is the same color as the fire in the fireplace, and the curl that falls against the back of her neck seems to flicker. Her hands are steady and very warm as they slide beneath the lapels of his coat.

“I— _hm_. A moment, please.”

She steps back, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She toys with the belt of her robe. It is just a shade darker than her skin and drapes over her curves. In the firelight, it turns buttery gold.

Caleb’s hands flex by his sides. Then he tugs off his coat. There’s a hook by the door, and he hangs it there. Then he pulls off the holster in which he keeps his books and hangs that up as well.

“Should I. Ah—” he gestures at his shirt, his pants.

“Do you want to?” the woman asks.

Caleb pauses, shrugs. It’s warm in the room, and he doubts he’s the ugliest thing that this woman has seen, but, well. He’s scrawny and scarred.

“How about just the gloves. And the top button or two.”

Mutely, he holds his hands out to her. His heart batters at the inside of his ribs. His breath comes hard and fast. His throat works as she takes his right hand in both of hers and begins to work the laces on his glove free of the eyelets. The leather rasps against his skin as she pulls it off. Then she moves to the other glove.

He brings his free hand to rest on her hip. The woman looks up, black eyes glinting. Caleb looks away immediately, but he does not drop his hand. The heat of her scorches through the robe and into his palm.

The second glove comes away. She moves that hand to her waist, as well. Then she backs him up to the bed. He’s good at doing what he’s told. This is fine. This is— her hands are warm and the smile on her lips makes his stomach go tight and heat build behind his cock. There’s a tasteless joke about cats getting cream in here somewhere and the thought almost makes him choke on air. He sits down too quickly.

“Mm?” she asks, running her fingers through his hair.

“Ah— nothing, sorry. Stray thought.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.” She presses him back, then, her hands on his shoulders and then running down his chest, over his stomach, to his belt. “Shall I make them stop?”

She’s welcome to try. He doesn’t say that— more gestures at nothing and blinks up at the ceiling and tries to ignore how hot his face feels. “Be my guest.”

His breath hitches as she undoes his belt. Caleb raises his hips a little so she can tug it free of the belt loops, which she does slowly. She’s just as slow about unbuttoning his fly. Her fingers just graze against his cock through the worn fabric of his smallclothes as she flicks each button open one by one.

Caleb lets out a long, unsteady breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

When she tugs a little at his trousers, he lifts his hips again. His face is burning. But this woman does not comment. She presses a kiss to one freckled thigh as she drops his trousers to his ankles. He kicks them away a moment later. She does not bother to remove his smalls entirely, just tugs them aside so she can free his half-hard cock. The air in the room in warm, but not body-warm, and he shifts a little as it brushes his skin.

She has not taken both hands off of him this entire time. He thinks he might have jumped otherwise when she leans in and kisses his hip. Her hair tickles where it brushes against him. It is warm, too, but not scorching. Not true fire.

Caleb exhales again.

“Oh, good,” she comments, laughter in her voice. “I thought you might be trying to knock yourself out.”

He makes a weak, wheezing sound that might be a chuckle which hitches and dissolves as her hands slide up his legs and nudge them apart.

He’s known what she was planning since she sank to her knees, but being this close to the reality still makes his palms sweat. Caleb balls both hands in the sheet and breathes through the spike of heat that snaps like a whip or like lightning up his spine.

The sound of a bottle opening is loud in the small room— the pop of a cap, followed by nothing he can catch other than a slight smell of something both sweet and somehow spiced. But he is not surprised to find her hand wet when she curls it around his stiffening cock. His hips jerk upwards.

Caleb stills himself. “Sorry.”

“No need.”

“It’s, ah, it’s been a while. Since…”

“I’ll go slow.”

“Oh.” he blinks at the ceiling and manages  _not_ to choke on his tongue as she gives him a lazy stroke. “Good.”

 _He_  is not slow. His cock hardens almost embarrassingly easily in her hand and Caleb, who had been quite prepared to make excuses for when his brain got in the way of his performance, feels as though the room beneath him has tipped. He keeps clinging to the sheet. By now, he has the pattern of dots and whirls in the wood of the ceiling seared into his memory.

She shifts, rising up onto her knees. Her shoulders brush against his legs, the silk of her robe soft against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. She curls thumb and forefinger around his base, firm, but not tight. Then her tongue drags up his cock from her fingers to its head.

Caleb’s stomach clenches. The sound he makes is a bit like he’s been struck.

“I’m— fine,” he assures her before she can ask. Then, stupidly, “your mouth is very warm.”

“Would you like more?”

Caleb nods mutely and squeezes his eyes shut.  

She still goes slowly. She laps around the head of his cock and just beneath it before taking it into her mouth and sucking like it’s a particularly nice lollipop— and he’ll analyze why that image was the one to make his hips twitch _later_. Her mouth is hot, and Caleb feels an answering surge in the warmth gathering behind his cock, a clenching in his stomach and thighs. He makes another sound, something thready and tight, and he thinks he feels her smile. But she does not speed up. The first time she pulls off entirely, Caleb groans aloud. He wonders if he imagines the note of reward in the motion of her tongue.  

This time, she takes his cock about half way before she begins to bob her head. All that heat pulls tight, as though she is trying to draw it into her mouth. He bats at the sheets. His hips jerk and he lets out a cry. She slows, and the blaze in his belly recedes. Sweat sticks his hair to his neck. Caleb lets out a panting groan and tugs at the collar of his shirt. The top button, its stitching loose, slips from the buttonhole. For a moment, he thinks about sitting up and pulling the whole shirt off, but—

The woman’s tongue makes another purposeful drag and Caleb’s thoughts scatter. His mouth drops open on a groan that rolls up from his chest.

Her answering hum of approval has his hips jolting upwards, body drawn tight.

Again, she backs him away from the edge. One hand splays flat over his stomach, just pushing beneath his shirt. The other gently cups his balls. He almost raises a hand to his mouth as another cry punches out of him. He tries to focus on breathing. The heat of her mouth floods his thoughts and leaves him scattered. His eyes fall closed. He’s panting a little, soft, involuntary sounds rising from his chest as he exhales. And all the while, the warmth in him builds, slow and insistent. He’s not sure if he wants to relax into it or tense and cling to the sheets. His body tries to do both, his heart hammering and his breath coming harder even as his expression goes slack. He can feel the prickling and drag of it spreading through his limbs.

The woman shifts again. Caleb finds himself drawn toward her, hands moving to squeeze his ass. His cock slips deeper, and she swallows around him, her throat going  _tight_. His hips jerk without his permission.

“ _Sor_ —” he starts. Then she hums, and he has nothing left but “ _Bitte, bitte, bitte_ …”

His hips twitch upwards again. Caleb feels one of her fingers slip back farther and press just at the edge of his hole.

Heat washes through him, all of it pouring out of him.

She holds his hips to the mattress until he finishes and goes limp against the bed.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the bed.

The woman stands, wiping at her mouth with a handkerchief. She sits next to him. “Did you enjoy yourself, Mr. Widogast?”

His throat works. He manages a low, inarticulate noise. Then he raises a hand and gives her a thumbs-up. A moment later, it occurs to him that she was teasing, and he looks up in time to see her bite back a giggle.

Caleb sits up slowly, raking a hand back through his hair. “Do we have time left?”

“Some,” she glances down at where his cock lies soft against his thigh. “Why?”

“I thought I might return the favor. If you were interested.”

She considers him for a moment, a lazy smile curving her lips and crinkling the corners of her eyes. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her legs. He ducks down between her thighs to lose himself once more in her heat.


End file.
